


A Crash of Stars

by ArgentGale



Series: Alien Relations 101 [13]
Category: Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26428411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentGale/pseuds/ArgentGale
Summary: Your father has decided to offer you as wife to Thrawn in exchange for the Empire's protection.  You are appalled and heartbroken that your father could so callously give you away as a bride to the strange blue skinned alien warlord.  Accepting that your life as you know it has changed forever, you settle into a routine aboard the Chimera.  In the ensuing weeks find that Thrawn isn't quite as terrible as you were lead to believe and soon find yourself eager for his company.
Relationships: Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo/Reader
Series: Alien Relations 101 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/614084
Comments: 35
Kudos: 153





	1. Surrendered

**Author's Note:**

> So the story with this fic is that has been languishing in my WIP folder for literal years. I remember ages ago I opened up my prompts and this was one of them. I was excited to get started on it because an arranged marriage involving Thrawn was downright sexy and intriguing. This is also the longest Thrawn x Reader fic I’ve done, consisting of multiple chapters. It has been quite a while since I’ve written and seems like ages since I tackled a Thrawn x Reader. I hope this has been worth the wait. I will try to release a new chapter every day until the story is complete. I hope you enjoy this latest offering and I pray the poor soul who dropped this prompt in my Ask finds this.

“A wife? What need do I have for a wife?”

A blue black eyebrow arched, whether in contempt or curiosity you could not tell.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears. This was a last ditch effort. Your father’s last hand to play. Offering you up to this strange blue-skinned Imperial as a show of allegiance and in exchange for the Empire’s protection. 

Thrawn. That was the name that was murmured over and over. That must be the alien’s name. 

_ If he would reject you…reject this offer _ .

When Thrawn turns his gaze to you, you try to stand as tall as you can, your chin tilted and your eyes demurely to the side. Inside your insides roil and simmer with anger and hurt. 

_ Passed off like livestock. Sent away without a second thought.  _

Your eyes dart to steal a glance at your father who is speaking with one of the officers. It is an intense conversation. Your father is gesturing in your direction, a very wide, very forced smile on his lips. He always was a shyster. You were sure he was promising way more than you could ever hope to deliver.  


You try to understand your father’s reasons. You know, deep down, that it is for the greater good. Your family, your people will be safe. 

Still, it hurts. Bites right down to the bone.

Thrawn continues to scrutinize you, his glowing eyes narrowing. Perhaps he found you repulsive. The deal off. You try to catch a hint at what he is thinking but his face is unreadable, his lips compressed in a tight line.

After his inspection the alien Imperial speaks. His voice is low yet commanding. The officers and your father immediately fall silent. You note your father’s wild gesturing has stilled, his clenched fists held tight to his sides as he often does when he is on edge.

“Is she…a slave? Are you offering me a slave?” Thrawn’s voice is icy with an undercurrent of disgust that made your blood run cold. Those odd red eyes flare for just a split second. 

“N…no, my lord.” Your father stuttered, barely able to get the words past his lips. “She will be your  _ wife _ . To serve your needs and provide comfort in any manner you see fit. She is well versed in the arts and knows how to handle a blaster. If it would suit you, perhaps you could place her in the service of the Imperial army. She is capable and brave and should serve you, and the Emperor, well. She is a bit headstrong and will need to learn to mind her tongue, follow orders.” Your father’s lips twist into a wry smile before he continues. “But I am sure that will not be a problem. I have every confidence you can handle her.”

Your cheeks burn at your father’s words. He speaks as if you are not even there.

This was the perfect opportunity to dispose of the headstrong daughter that sought better for herself rather than accepting her lot in life, submitting to a man and bearing child after child. It was no secret he had always wanted a son.

This way he gets to play the part of the father doing the right and noble thing. Sacrificing his only child to the Empire.

Thrawn sniffed. The two officers standing on either side of him leaned in and seemed to confer, offering advice in hissing voices. You can’t hear the full conversation, only bits and pieces are discernible. You hear the officer to Thrawn’s left murmur, “She may be useful, sir. The Empire can always use fresh recruits. We can assess her talent and place her where she fits.”

Thrawn sets his jaw and gives a curt nod. You are then pushed forward. Hands roughly grab you and you are brought to stand directly before him. You don't dare meet his gaze, instead focusing on the white uniform and odd colored squares affixed at his breast. Swallowing hard, you finally dare to look up. Thrawn looks mildly amused and half bored at this odd presentation. He holds your gaze for a few heartbeats before gesturing to the anxious looking officer behind him.

“Take her aboard. Place her in a holding cell until I figure out what we should do with her.”

You stumble as you are roughly urged forward to the waiting shuttle, casting a last glance over your shoulder at your father. He refuses to meet your eyes. No reassuring wave. No acknowledgement whatsoever. 

You know then you will never see father or your homeworld ever again. 

Your mind then blanks out. Your body grows heavy and numb. There is no pang of regret or sadness. You walk in a daze as the officers guide you forward with sharp commands. Your new “husband” is already out of view, disappearing into the shuttle.

*~*~*~*~*

The shuttle departs and you watch your world grow smaller. Waiting in orbit is a large ship, and you can’t help but be impressed at its massive size, filling the viewport as the shuttle draws close. 

After landing, you are hustled away unceremoniously dumped into a holding cell. It is sparse and cold, holding only a small cot. There are no windows. There is no way to pass or measure the time. 

You are nodding off to sleep when finally the door hisses open revealing two stormtroopers. One of them barks, “Come with us.” His companion grabs your arm, squeezing hard enough to make you yelp, and roughly escorts you down the corridor. Both of them seem annoyed at their errand. 

Not a soul pays you any notice as you are shepherded down the corridors, finally roughly herded into what appears to be a conference room of some sort.

He is there. Waiting.

You stand there, tired, aggravated, and shivering in your “wedding” attire. The gown has already been torn at the hem and it is filthy. 

Thrawn seems to not notice nor care about your current state of comfort as he shoots you a withering look.

Finally he speaks. “I am not quite sure what I am to do with you. It seems refusing you would have been rude. Quarters have been prepared for you and there you shall stay until I figure out the next step. “ Thrawn paused, looking you up and down before continuing on. “ I am far too busy to be concerned with such a trivial matter as keeping you occupied.”

Thrawn then gives a dismissive wave of his hand signaling the conversation is over. Once more you are hustled away, but not to the holding cell. You are escorted down a maze of corridors to what are to be your living quarters. The door hisses open and you are roughly shoved inside. The door hisses shut and for the first time you have a moment to catch your breath and take in your surroundings. There is a small table with two chairs, a small cot. What appears to be a bathroom. It’s certainly better than that dreadful holding cell.

There is a pile of neatly folded clothing on your bed, a heap of grey and black. Perhaps you will fit in wearing these. Disappear. If you are lucky Thrawn will forget all about you. He made it abundantly clear he had no time for you. 

Your mind is already plotting on escape. Maybe…just maybe…you will be able to slip away eventually. On a ship this massive, surely you can find an ally to help you. The galaxy is large. There are many systems. It would be easy to get lost. Find a new identity. Start a new life. 

First recovery and rest. 

Dirty and emotionally exhausted you make your way to the shower. You slip off the sad excuse of a gown, the last vestiges of your old life peeling away. 

The water feels heavenly and you allow yourself the luxury of a few moments of self pity, yout tears mingling with the warm water.


	2. Acceptance

Time is impossible to measure with no day and night. Days flow into weeks.

You learn the great ship you are on is the “Chimera” and that all of the officers aboard are fiercely loyal to Thrawn. It soon becomes obvious that finding an ally to help you escape will be nothing short of impossible.

Eventually you are given more freedom to move about the Chimera provided you have an escort. You have yet to see, or speak with, your “husband” since your initial conversation when you first arrived. In spite of this, it seems that Thrawn has made sure all your needs are taken care of. You are never deprived of food or drink. You are permitted access to the recreation area. Your captivity is a fairly comfortable one.

The mood aboard the massive ship is one of quiet order and discipline. From what you can see there is little talk amongst the officers, and any of their dealings with you have been nothing but to the point. No small talk or any attempts to get to know you. 

Things continue on in this strange parody of a normal life until one evening you return to your quarters to find a new set of clothing laid neatly on your bed, not the usual drab gray trousers and jacket you’ve been sporting the past few weeks, but instead a shade of soft green. On closer inspection it is a simple tunic and a matching skirt made of a soft material.

Then you notice your data pad waiting on your desk is blinking, notifying you of a waiting message. Opening it, your stomach drops when you see it is from none other than Thrawn himself, inviting you to dine with him. It seems he hasn’t forgotten all about you. You hadn’t realized just how much you were dreading this moment. With a sigh of resignation prepare yourself for dinner. 

The dinner was flat out dreadful. 

The conversation wass stilted and awkward. You could barely look at him. Forget about trying to eat. Your stomach was tied up in knots. The only saving grace was the glass of wine. 

After it was over you were certain he was going to place you into an escape pod and jettison you off to the nearest planet. Instead, Thrawn thanked you for your company as he escorted you to the door where a waiting storm trooper saw you back to your room. 

The following day there was another invitation and that evening yet another dinner, slightly less awful. This continued on and on until finally the dinners came to be somewhat enjoyable. Thrawn, in spite of his rather intimidating demeanor, was patient and at times even gentle, as he coaxed conversation from you. Gathering bits and pieces about your life , your family, and how you came to be seated at his table as his reluctant “wife.” You found yourself revealing things to him, not sure quite how he convinced you to do so. He would sit, watching you intently, sipping his wine, as you told your tales. He seemed to soak in your every word, no matter how trivial. 

Then after some weeks the chill thawed even further. The conversation and wine flowed and you find yourself actually looking forward to your evenings together. Thrawn is always the perfect gentleman, never once taking advantage of his status. Aside from placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you to the table, he hasn’t even tried to touch you let alone kiss you. 

You find yourself finding this admirable behavior from him troubling you. In spite of yourself, in spite of this situation, you find that you want him to. Thrawn turned out to be intelligent and far kinder than you were expecting him to be. This alien has treated you far better than any human has. After getting over the initial shock of his appearance, what with that odd blue skin and those glowing red eyes, he was rather…handsome _.  _

_No._ You chide yourself. _He is incredibly handsome._ More and more once you have returned to your quarters, your mind wanders with thoughts musing over the way the lighting plays over the sharp angles of his cheekbones. His lush mouth. What is the texture of his hair? Is it soft? Coarse? Thick? Would it please him to have you rake your fingers through it? Did his kind know and enjoy kissing? Did his kind know passion? How did his people express desire or affection?

He wouldn’t want anything like that with you. He probably finds humans odd and certainly not worthy of sharing intimacy with. Stars, he probably thinks you are incredibly unattractive and he is just being polite until he could get rid of you. 

Besides, you remind yourself, this whole charade is just one of politics and was never meant to be one of passion. 

You gaze out the viewport, wondering what exactly Thrawn has planned for you. You managed to overhear two officers talking about the Chimera was going to be heading in for minor repairs and restocking of supplies, and that Thrawn is planning on returning to a place called Courescant. Would he be taking you with him? Maybe this was it. Maybe freedom was closer than you once thought. 

You resolve to ask Thrawn exactly what his intentions are the next time you are together. 

As if on cue, the door chime sounds breaking your reverie. You open it to find an ensign with a large box clutched in his arms. His eyes shift nervously and he refuses to meet your gaze. 

“The Grand Admiral requested I deliver this to you personally. He asks that I remain and await your reply. He insisted I give your response personally. “ The ensign gives a nervous cough and holds the box out towards you. 

You thank the officer and take the box from him. It is awkward but not heavy. There is a small envelope with a handwritten note inside. Paper? Actual paper? This Thrawn never ceases to surprise. 

You find your hand is shaking as you read the concise script. It reads: 

_ Please forgive my oversight. I have studied your traditions and it appears I have made an unforgivable misstep. You are my wife and yet we never shared a proper wedding meal as is customary among your people. I ask that you join me and do me the honor of wearing this. Consider it my wedding gift to you. _

Opening the box your breath catches fast in your throat. It is a dress of the most exquisite silken fabric, a deep burgundy in color. 

You forgot all about the poor ensign waiting patiently for your response. Your face flushed, you tell him that you will join Thrawn as he has requested. The ensign gives a curt nod and departs. 

You hold up the dress to admire it. Underneath there is a pair of shoes, dyed to match, and a necklace of stones that glitter like ice. 

Never in your life have you seen, let alone had a chance to wear, such exquisite finery. The dress is much more revealing than that simple tunic/skirt combo you’ve been wearing. 

The thought of Thrawn selecting it for that very reason brings a warmth to your cheeks. 

The dress is proof Thrawn sees you as something far more than just a dinner companion. 


	3. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Real life was being a butt.

You don’t recognize the image staring back at you from the mirror. The dress fits perfectly, as if it were made for you. Idly you wonder if it was. Did Star Destroyers come equipped with dress shops? The color sets off your eyes perfectly. The stones about your throat glitter and shimmer, almost as if they are alive. White hot sparks flare as the light catches the facets. You turn and admire yourself, preening and imagining Thrawn’s face when he sees you. Your stomach does a slow flip in anticipation. 

At the appointed time, two storm troopers arrive to deliver you to Thrawn’s quarters. 

You walk in a nervous haze, taking numerous turbo lifts and winding corridors until at last you stand before a set of gleaming black doors. After a quick credential check, the doors hisse open. 

You find yourself overcome with a sense of almost panic. Every time you’ve dined with Thrawn it had always been in a private conference room type area, never his personal office. You clench your fists to steady your nerves, closing your eyes for just a moment to center yourself. 

“You are a vision. I knew that dress would suit you.”

His voice seemed to pour over you, warm and velvet soft. 

Thrawn stood there, resplendent as always in his dress whites, hair impeccably groomed. His mouth is not set in its usual grim line, but instead in an almost smile. As he looks you up and down you notice his fingers flutter ever so slightly.

Thrawn then offers a curt nod to the patiently waiting troopers. They turn without a word and march back the way you came. 

“Please,” with a nod, Thrawn welcomes you inside. 

You find a table meticulously prepared. It is set with fine dishes and delicate silverware. Food awaits on platters and the savory aromas make your mouth water. Meats in rich sauces. Odd looking vegetables in vibrant reds and purples. There is wine, so deep a red it appears black, already poured in fine crystalline glasses.

Thrawn smiles at you and you find it holds genuine warmth. “I am so glad you could join me.” 

Thrawn’s eyes seem to drink you in. He bows slightly and murmurs, “You are truly a work of art in that gown.” His voice holds a hushed reverence. His odd crimson eyes flare ever so slightly and your heart stutters in your chest.

“Please, sit. Dine with me.”

You can only nod as you take your seat. You can feel your cheeks burning under his intent gaze. 

The two of you have by now dined together numerous times before but this time the atmosphere is decidedly different. There is a change in his demeanor. As you smile politely and begin to help yourself to the food you can feel it. A strange, simmering tension between the two of you. It is not unpleasant. It’s more of an air of nervous anticipation. There has been a shift and you get the sense that something is about to transpire that is utterly terrifying and yet at the same time holds the possibility of being wonderful. 

Thrawn’s anxiety translates into being overly formal as he continually inquires on your comfort during the meal. Too warm? Cold? How is the wine? Is the food to your liking? 

Inwardly you smile. His demeanor is a far cry from the usually cool collected dinner companion you were used to. 

The food is far from the usual fare you have previously enjoyed. It is obvious the delicacies were reserved for Thrawn’s enjoyment. 

Thrawn has obviously put quite a bit of thought into this special evening. Everything is exquisite and you tell him so. He only nods and smiles at your flattery.

Finally there is a lull in your conversation that stretches to the point it verges on becoming uncomfortable. Thrawn sets down his wine glass with a sharp clink, his gaze intent. His eyes flare ever so slightly. You decide that like a human’s blush, this is a sign of nerves in his kind. Thrawn then heaves a weary sigh, seeming to brace himself before he speaks, his voice so low you must strain to hear. 

“Do you wish to go home? Do you wish to return to your father? Your people? Go back to your world and resume your life there?”

You stare blankly, not sure you heard correctly. A few weeks ago and you would have leapt from your chair in joy. Now you are puzzled to find there is hesitation. Going back would break the deal your father cobbled together, bringing certain shame. You feel your jaw tighten. Bringing shame to your father would mean a life of solitude and punishment. Ostracized. You’d be better off dead. 

You swallow hard before you carefully respond, “No. No, I do not wish to go back. I would rather die.” There is an ugly, hard edge to your voice. For the first time you meet Thrawn’s gaze with unflinching resolve.

The strength of your conviction surprises you but it is true. You would rather die than be shuttled back to your homeworld to what surely would be a miserable existence. You’d take your chances here. It seemed Thrawn respected you. Cared enough to worry about your comfort.He found you— beautiful.

Thrawn says nothing, only studies you, his eyes like embers. After a few heartbeats Thrawn inclines his head, nodding slightly. 

“So…you wish to stay? With me?”

You nod. 

“I’ll take my chances here. With you.”

Thrawn nods, raises his glass to his lips and finishes the last of his wine. 

“Come.” Thrawn abruptly rises from his seat. “I want to show you something.” He moves to stand next to you, extending his hand in invitation. 

You take it and he twines his fingers with yours. His hand is soft and very warm, the grip firm and yet gentle. 

You swallow hard and nod, “Of course.”

He leads you to a large room. You assume it is Thrawn’s private study where he can retreat to for privacy and quiet. You try hard not to gape at the sight of the elegant, tastefully decorated space. It is a definite departure from the decor, or lack thereof, of the rest of the ship. 

Towards the rear of the room is a large, ornate desk. All along the walls, the whole length of the room, are artworks of every description from species and worlds you cannot begin to identify. Some are achingly beautiful and graceful. Others savage and crude. You offer a soft gasp of wonder that brings a smile to Thrawn’s lips. You note a now naked dress form. Of course! That explained how he managed to find a gown in the depths of space. Apparently you are wearing a work of art.

One piece in particular catches your eye. Your heart leaps as you actually recognize the artist. 

“I know that!” You exclaim softly. “That is the work of Ratth Niri.” You are pleasantly surprised to recognize one of your favorite artists. Back home, probably still tucked away in your old room, you had a collection of holos of Niri’s works. The style was passionate and bold, with steady lines and rich color. 

Thrawn murmurs in approval and you shiver as he places his hand in the small of your back, guiding you closer to the piece.

“And what of this Ratth Niri? Hmmm?” You can feel the pressure of Thrawn’s palm on your spine and you shiver at the touch. 

Your mind spins as you try to remember your art history. “It…it is a tragic story. Ratth Niri fell in love with Miraa Ty, the wife of their people’s ruler, Barr Joq. It is said that all of Ratth Niri’s pieces were in actuality, inspired by, created for, and dedicated to her. They were lovers for many years until their affair was finally uncovered and revealed to Barr Joq. He had them both first tortured and then publicly executed to serve as a lesson. In a rage Barr Joq decreed that every piece of art Ratth Niri created were to be destroyed. Only a few pieces survived.”

Thrawn nodded. “You are very correct. And tell me, how do you feel about that? What they did. Their betrayal. Do you feel it was worth it? Or was it a foolish endeavor and perhaps selfish. 

Why does this question feel like some sort of test? You choose your words very carefully. 

“What they did was…wrong. But we do not know the entire story. Perhaps Barr Joq was very cruel to his wife. Perhaps he…ignored her. Did not appreciate her as he should.” Thrawn only nods slightly, his face unreadable.

You continue. “I find the story terribly sad and yet tragically romantic. Risking so much for their love and in the end it got them both killed.” You pause and your lips twist into a wry smile. “And yet perhaps they got the last laugh as I feel that Ratth Niri and Miraa Ty are now together… in the afterlife.” You pause, swallow hard, and then softly add, “At least I hope so.”

Thrawn is quiet and you fear you have not given the answer he was looking for. Then he laughs. It is a genuine laugh and the sound is so foreign to you that you jump slightly.

“You surprise me <name>. I like your…insight. You are very perceptive.” 

Thrawn’s eyes have softened and it seems he is seeing you now for the very first time. The true you. The fiery opinionated you. The “you” your father couldn’t stand. The you that made him decide to give you away to an Imperial warlord.

“M…my lord?” Your mouth is suddenly incredibly dry. You are certain Thrawn can hear your hammering heart. 

“My full name is Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Thrawn’s voice is a low rumble and as he moves closer to you. You stand firm and do not move away. 

“Please tell me. Are you frightened of me? Have I not treated you kindly?”

“Y...you have my lord, I…I mean...Mitth’raw’nuruodo.” Your tongue feels thick and you stammer over his full name. 

He arches an eyebrow. “Please, just call me Thrawn. It is easier for you.”

“As you wish my…Thrawn.”

He smiles and then his face turns serious.

“Do you truly wish to be my wife <name>?”

What was he getting at? If you said the wrong thing, would it mean imprisonment or even worse, execution?

“If it pleases you. If I may serve you and provide you comfort.” Inwardly you cringe. Those were the very words your father said to Thrawn. 

Thrawn stands before you now, close enough to touch, so very intimidating in his white uniform. Alarms are sounding off in your brain warning you to be careful. Back away. But you do not. There is a flutter in your stomach and your legs feel leaden.

Terror has been replaced with intrigue. 

You stay rooted to the spot, meeting Thrawn’s gaze, your eyes challenging Thrawn to come even closer.

He takes his fingers to lift your chin, tilting your face to meet those burning eyes of his.

His voice is soft and silken. “ I have no need for a wife but I do wish for you to stay here. With me. I wish to further…explore your charms. I feel you have much to teach me.”

He pauses, you see his throat work as he swallows. His voice is a whisper when he continues.

“We have had our celebratory dinner. I have given you a wedding gift.” Thrawn gives a thoughtful pause. “Is it not tradition for one to express affection towards their mate? Their…as your kind calls it…wife?”

There is no mocking tone to his voice and you realize he is asking a genuine question. 

You nod. His touch is feather light on your skin and yet manages to send sparks of pleasure flaring all the way to your fingertips. 

“This affection is expressed in what you call kissing, yes?”

“It…is. Yes.” 

And if I desire to kiss my wife? It is my right, correct? ”

Blood roars in your ears. Finally you find your voice, “Yes my lord, it is your right.”

“Thrawn. Again, please call me by my name. I am not your…lord.” His eyes flare slightly. “Unless that is what you truly desire.”

He then bends down and his silken lips whisper over yours. Soft and slight as the whisper of a flutter bug’s wings. The sensation sends a pleasant thrill up your spine.

The kiss is over in a flash and it is almost as if it had never happened. 

“Was that adequate?”

The calm, collected Imperial is no more. Thrawn’s breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling under the crisp white tunic. 

_ He wants more.  _

The thought of him desiring you sends a delicious shiver throughout your body.

“It was adequate but a bit hurried. A kiss between a husband and his mate is a bit more leisurely.”

Seeing Thrawn so flustered gives an added thrill. 

You pull him to you, gently nipping at his lower lip before offering the soft press of your lips on his. All sense of fear spins away as you open your mouth slightly so he may deepen his kiss if he so chooses. Invite him to take more.

He hungrily accepts your invitation, and with a slight murmur pulls you to him , his arms pulling you flush to his chest. 

At that everything fades. It is only Thrawn. His touch. His scent. His soft murmurs of need as his tongue gently slips past your lips to tease and explore your mouth with surprising expertise.

He tastes of the wine, rich and velvety.

You moan softly at the pleasure of it, all fear and doubt slipping away as his hands begin to explore your body. His fingertips glancing down your body , gently caressing your waist before settling over the full swell of your ass. You find yourself desperately wishing the gown wasn’t hindering skin on skin contact.

Thrawn’s kisses grow intense, hungry and as he settles against you you can feel the hard heat of him pressing hungrily against your inner thigh.

You gasp into his mouth and he answers with a soft moan.

Your question has been answered. Indeed, his kind knows passion.

Thrawn breaks off the kiss, breath ragged and face flushed light purple as he presses his forehead to yours. 

“No. Not here. I won’t take my wife for the first time here.” He murmurs this almost to himself before kissing you again, murmuring softly in delight before once more breaking away. 

You have no time to protest as in one swift motion he scoops you up into his arms. 

Stunned only for a heartbeat, you stammer, “I’m quite capable of walking.” Feeling like you are in a ridiculous romance holo, you can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. The grim facade is quickly chipping away and you are eager to coax the true Thrawn from his stony charade.

Thrawn kisses you soundly, offering a gentle nip to your jaw. “This will be faster and forgive me I’m in a hurry.” His lips claim yours once more before he makes his way down a corridor off of the office. You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent, actually happy to be carried because you are pretty sure you can’t trust your legs to carry you. 


End file.
